


Mystery Girl

by TipandMalarkey



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipandMalarkey/pseuds/TipandMalarkey
Summary: Feyre finds Rhysand sat on the steps of the town house and persuades him to tell her what's on his mind.





	Mystery Girl

Rhysand was sat on the roof of the town house looking out over the twinkling lights of Velaris, breathing in the jasmine and salt air. He spread his wings out, bent around him just enough to keep the chill of the night at bay. As he finally began to relax in earnest, Feyre bustled out of the roof door, arms full of paints, brushes, a canvas and a stand. Rhysand wasn't quite sure how she was managing it.    
The canvas rose above Feyre's face, so she had to look to the ground to see her next step. Facing away from Rhysand, she was completely oblivious to his presence as he watched her with vague amusement. Somehow, Feyre managed to lay everything on the floor without dropping a thing, then began to line up her paints and brushes on the low wall next to her. Lastly, she set up her stand and propped her canvas on it, adjusting it several times before she deemed it to be in the right place. She stood back and placed her hands on her hips in triumph of her success of her set up.   
"Happy yet?" Rhysand asked, teasing in his voice. Feyre yelped in surprise, not used to being caught by surprise. In the same moment, she grabbed one of her paint pots, spun around and threw it as hard as she could at Rhysand.  
Expecting a reaction, Rhysand was ready to catch the pot.   
What he was not expecting, was for the lid to pop off and for his arm to be covered in a deep violet hue.

Feyre's hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock, and then to try hold back her laughter. "I'm so sorry." Feyre whispered behind her hands, barely keeping a hold of herself. Rhysand was staring at his arm, and then turned to look at Feyre. "Well," he said, "what can I say? I always knew I was a piece of art."   
Dropping her hands back to her sides, Feyre grinned at him. "It matches your eyes perfectly," she said, walking towards him. She ran a finger over his hand and then swiped it under his eye, leaving a burst of colour on his skin that did indeed match his eyes perfectly.   
Rhysand stilled as she touched him, and shivered slightly as she touched his face, leaving a burning trail behind.   
Feyre plucked the paint tin out of Rhysands hand and walked back to her makeshift painting station. She wiped away the paint on the tin then chucked the towel towards a waiting Rhysand.  
He began to scrape off the colour, but Feyre was pretty sure he was just making it worse.  
"So," Feyre began, "why are you up here?"  
"Oh no, I don't want to take you away from your weekly painting sessions." Rhysand said, trying to deter the conversation away from him. He didn't particularly want to tell Feyre that the reason he was brooding was because of her.  
Thankfully, he was successful, "Wait, how did you know this was a weekly thing?" Feyre asked, a defensive edge to her voice. Her painting nights were meant to be something that only she knew about, something that she alone experienced.  
"Feyre, I've been living with you for the past year, I'd be worried about my capabilities as a High Lord and Az's as my shadowsinger if I didn't know where you were disappearing off to every week." Amusement in his voice. Did she really think that no one would notice? The townhouse was home to some of the best warriors in Prythian, there's no way they couldn't have noticed.  
"So what, you were spying on me?" Feyre asked, an edge to her voice. She knew what it was like to be monitored and kept under watch, to have your freedom taken away from you, and she was in no rush to have it happen again.   
"More like making sure nothing happens to you, you know that." Rhysand said gently. And Feyre did know that. She knew that Rhysand and Tamlin couldn't be more different, and she knew that Rhys would never stop her from doing something if she wanted. 

Rhysand turned away from the girl in front of him and made his way to the door. "Goodnight Feyre, enjoy your painting."  
But before he could reach the handle a hand was wrapping around his bicep and tugging him backwards. "You're not getting away that easily," Feyre said, determined to get him to tell her what was wrong.   
The High Lord just shook his head, "You don't want to hear it Feyre-"  
" _Rhys_ ," Feyre interrupted, forcing him to meet eyes with her, "just talk to me."  
In her grey-blue eyes Rhys could see how much she cared about him. How she wanted him to be okay. He didn't want to risk their friendship but he also knew that she would never let it go.   
_Cauldron boil me_ he thought as he let Feyre lead him back to where he was originally sat. She sat on the low wall next to the chair, parallel with her art supplies, still neatly lined up.   
"Come on then," Feyre said, nudging Rhys' knee with her foot, "what's up?"   
Rhys turned away from Feyre and looked out over Velaris once more. He breathed out a shaky laugh, not quite believing that he was about to tell her.   
"A girl." He finally said.   
"Oh, wow." Feyre said. That was really  _not_ the answer she was expecting.   
Rhys let out a small laugh, "Not what you were expecting?"  
"Honestly, not in the slightest." A couple moments of silence hung in the air until Feyre asked, "Who is she then?"  
Rhys grinned at her, "Well I can't give away all my secrets now can I?"  
Feyre rolled her eyes at him, "Okay. Then tell me about her. What's she like? Do I know her?"  
"I don't even know where to begin." Rhysand said, shaking his head.   
"What's the first word that comes to mind when you think of her?" Feyre prompted him.   
"Beautiful." Rhysand said instantly, "She's absolutely beautiful. But not only in her appearance. She's so caring and so fiercely protective. Easily one of the bravest people I know."  
Feyre scanned his profile as he talked about the girl. She had never seen this expression on him before. She could see his eyes were soft with affection, a faint smile on his lips. "Keep talking about her." Feyre said softly as she got up and made her way to her paints and canvas.  
"She's intelligent and quick thinking. She's been through so much but she doesn't hate the world. She would risk herself without a second thought for anyone."

Feyre had nearly finished her painting. It was simplistic; she had to do it quickly, while he was talking about this girl. Just as she was finishing his eye he said his final point, "She has this amazing talent that she's passionate about and I love the look of concentration on her face when she does it. I can hardly control myself when she's painting and she bites her lip."  
At that moment Feyre tore her eyes away from her painting and looked at Rhys, who was no longer looking at the lights of Velaris but was looking straight at her. She hadn't even realised that she had been chewing her lip, only noticing when Rhysand mentioned it. But so what? Velaris was sure to be full of artists who bit their lips. Though even she couldn't ignore the fire that had entered Rhys' eyes.  
"She's very lucky to have you as an admirer." Feyre breathed.  
"Do you want to know the best thing about her?" Rhysand asked, standing up and walking towards where she was stood.  
Feyre just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Rhys knew he said he wouldn't do this, but he had gone this far and there was no turning back now. He stopped a foot away from her, the air between them crackling.   
"She's standing right in front of me." Rhys whispered and cupped her face in his hands. He leaned towards her but paused just before their lips touched, giving Feyre a chance to reject him. He wasn't going to do this unless she wanted him to.  
He got his answer when she pushed herself up onto her toes and their lips finally met.  
Rhys' hands traveled from her face to around her waist where he pulled her closer to him, pressing their bodies together. Feyre wound her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his inky black hair. They broke apart and Feyre trailed kisses down his neck, nipping lightly at the base of his neck. Rhys let out a soft moan and picked Feyre up, so her lips returned to his and her legs wrapped around his waist. Their kiss deepened and Rhys sat in one of the chairs, Feyre straddling him.

When they finally broke apart Feyre moved so she was sat sideways across his lap and could lean back on his shoulder. They both wanted more, and they both knew that, but they also knew that they needed to take it slow. Rhys wrapped his arms tightly around Feyre, relishing the feeling of her in his arms.  
"So," Feyre began, "What do we tell the others?"  
Rhysand grinned, "Nothing, they would've seen this coming from a mile away." 

  
 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this originally on fanfic.net as a clarec fic but because clarec makes no sense and I am trash for feysand I decided to rewrite it :) - Tip


End file.
